


Curiouser and curiouser.

by wedjateye



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedjateye/pseuds/wedjateye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Kapitel, whilst the team are living in the mobile home. Title from Lewis Carroll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiouser and curiouser.

Aya swipes a patch of condensation from the tiny mirror for the third time. Good. Irritation has settled his features into place. He turns his frown up a notch, just to be on the safe side. Having to contort to avoid the clinging dampness of the flimsy shower curtain helps anchor the lines between his eyebrows.

Not enough room in this fucking _cubicle_ to even keep his clothes dry while dressing. Let alone for anything of a more energetic nature…

Damn. That insidious curve is back.

Impatient knocking rips a snarl from Aya’s throat. Reflection forgotten, he shoves the bathroom door open so forcefully that Ken stumbles back into the belly of the trailer.

“Death wish so early in the day, Hidaka?” Aya snaps.

Ken scrambles to his feet, scrutinising Aya closely before turning to complain to Omi.

“You were just winding me up, weren’t you Chibi? And I thought Yohji was mean without his morning caffeine.”

Omi glances over from his vigil by the percolator, raking both Aya and Ken with a sharp look that belies his tousled appearance. He finishes his appraisal with a lengthy consideration of Yohji.

A conspicuously relaxed and indifferent Yohji. Limbs arranged in a languid sprawl that takes up the entire lounge, an expression of utter innocence fixed in place, as he most definitely does _not_ return the attention that is suddenly riveted upon him from every direction.

Omi snorts. “No Ken-kun, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Bunnies?” Ken quavers.

“Bunnies,” Omi declares, nodding his head decisively before turning away to pull mugs out of a cabinet.

“What – ”, Aya snaps, the promise of pain dripping menacingly from his voice. Ken flinches and at the edge of his vision, Aya sees Yohji curl in on himself reflexively.

Aya slowly closes and opens his eyes, forcing air deep into his lungs.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather not know,” Aya grates. Living in such close quarters is driving them all stir crazy. No need to encourage the insanity.

Predictably enough, Ken interprets this as encouragement and begins babbling.

“Omi has this theory. About why Yohji was so keen for us not to miss the film festival last night.”

“Hey!” Yohji protests, going so far as to lift his head from the armrest, until he catches the full blast of Aya’s withering regard. He slouches back into the cushions, flinging one arm across his face, mumbling sulkily into the hollow of his elbow.

Aya realises with a start that he is looming so closely over Yohji, that he can see the faint mist of his breath in the frigid air. Stupid idiot hasn’t made any concession to the cold – worn cotton sleep pants, practically falling from his hips, do nothing to prevent the expanse of tanned skin on display from shivering into goose-flesh.

Aya jerks his concentration back to the other blithering moron cluttering up his mental space.

“…ulating like small f-furry rodents.” Ken stammers

“Hidaka, you’re making even less sense than usual.” Aya growls. Ken is flushed bright red and almost falls over the coffee table as he edges away.

“Fucking like bunnies,” Yohji blurts, his voice ringing uncomfortably loudly in the awkward silence.

“They thought we wanted them gone last night so we could… You get the rest.” Yohji clarifies softly, mouth twisting ruefully.

Aya skewers Omi with a disparaging glare, refusing to back down from the obvious challenge shining in wide blue eyes.

“ _That’s_ what our master strategist came up with?”

Nobody out-stares a Fujimiya. Aya would stake his life on it. He crosses his arms nonchalantly and settles in. Aya knows he’s won when the first trace of pink stains Omi’s cheeks. Can’t quite suppress the triumphant twitch that mars his composure when Omi breaks the deadlock, looking uneasily down at the coffee pot.

So the frankly girlish ‘Eeep’ that escapes him when the trailer suddenly tilts crazily, dumping him firmly on top of his teammate, is most unfortunate.

“Well, if you’re gonna give it away by _smiling_ ,” Yohji chuckles nervously, one hand tangled into Aya’s shirt front, the other scrabbling defensively for control of Aya’s wrist.

This is still salvageable, Aya decides. Violence sends a clear message, and the muscles in Yohji’s thighs are jumping convulsively against Aya’s conveniently landed knee. One swift movement and Yohji won’t be fucking anything for a very long time.

“Aya,” Yohji pleads breathlessly, his body squirming helplessly beneath Aya’s weight.

It’s all a little too reminiscent, a little too distracting, and Aya can feel his killer instinct melting into something else entirely.

“You were saying?” Omi enquires distinctly.

Aya can’t quite tear his eyes away from the hopeful look on Yohji’s face.

“You’ve got it completely wrong,” Aya answers his unseen teammate. What the hell, there’s honour to be had in admitting the truth. “Bunnies have no stamina at all.”

Relieved breath hits Aya’s chin in a warm puff and strong arms wind around him to pull him in close. Strangled noises emanating from Ken and Omi speak of looks of shock that Aya wouldn’t mind savouring right now. But that can wait. The hungry glint in Yohji’s eyes, just before his lips find Aya’s, promises that for now at least, Aya will have no regrets.

 

 


End file.
